


I'd Rather Be Here Where They Love Me

by TauriCXIV



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Established Relationship, Good Parent Regis Lucis Caelum CXIII, Head Injury, Human Trafficking, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Physical Abuse, hurt noct
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 16:25:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17186387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TauriCXIV/pseuds/TauriCXIV
Summary: He tries to focus on what Cor taught him for these kinds of situations.Comply with their demands. Don’t do anything stupid. Stay alive until help gets there.





	I'd Rather Be Here Where They Love Me

**Handsome Bastard (3:13 PM)** I’m free this weekend. We could do something

 **(3:26 PM)** Sure. Got something in mind?

 **Handsome Bastard (3:26 PM)** There’s a nice little place on 23rd I think you’d like

 **(3:28 PM)** Oh yeah?

 **Handsome Bastard (3:28 PM)** Its a quiet restaurant out of the way no big crowds but its got the best carp fillet. I swear  
**Handsome Bastard (3:28 PM)** You’ve never had anything like it

 **(3:28 PM)** Sounds great :)

 **Handsome Bastard (3:29 PM)** Tomorrow at 7? **  
Handsome Bastard (3:29 PM)** I’ll pick you up?

 **(3:34 PM)** I’ve got a meeting with Dad and the governors. It’ll probably run late  
**(3:34 PM)** Like always  
**(3:34 PM)** Meet you there?

 **Handsome Bastard (3:34 PM)** Works for me  
**Handsome Bastard (3:34 PM)** See you then ;)

His stomach does a flip every time he sees the winky face. Noctis fights the urge to cover his face and moan like some love-struck idiot. It’s so stupid. How can a semicolon and a parenthesis affect him this bad? Is it because Nyx sent it and Noctis can so very easily see the man’s stupid handsome face making that exact expression?

He’s still not used to this whole casual _thing_ they’ve got going. Nyx is away more often than not so even though it’s been weeks since this thing of theirs started neither of them has brought up the “boyfriend” word yet. They haven’t even done that much apart from a few end-of-date kisses.

He gets off the train and walks on auto-pilot back towards his apartment. He’s still staring at the text conversation when a shadow sweeps up behind him.

“Gimme your wallet and your phone,” orders the man pressing the barrel of a gun into Noctis’ back. His accent holds a lilt of something distinctly not Insomnian. Noctis freezes.

Well, isn’t this just _great_. The Crown Prince mugged in his own city.

He’s already thinking of the political backlash this will have. How people will push for stricter policing. The criticisms of the crown’s response to poverty. The increase in anti-refugee sentiment—there’s already too much of that.

Yeah, it’ll be bad, but it’ll be worse if their prince gets gunned down on the street.

“Yeah, sure. Okay.”

“Slowly,” the man growls in his ear when Noctis starts to move. He jabs the gun harder into him for emphasis. Noctis tries not to wince.

“You’re the boss.” He moves at a snail’s pace to pull out his wallet along with his cellphone. It’s no big loss. There’s nothing scandalous on his phone (unless you count arranging dinner dates with a member of the Kingsglaive), and if the guy isn’t a total idiot he’ll dump them both as soon as he sees the ID in the wallet. It will suck to have to reprogram all his contacts. He’s got some photos he’s pretty sure didn’t get backed up. And there’s always the wait to have new cards issued.

Noctis holds the phone and wallet up in one hand and waits for the man to take them and get lost. The gun is removed from his back… and slammed into his temple.

The blow sends him to the ground. He’s dazed. The world is spinning. Booted feet run towards him and someone grabs his arms. He’s in danger, he knows that much, so he latches onto the wrist of the person trying to restrain him and floods them with electricity.

There’s a scream and the smell of burning flesh. Something hits him hard in the back of the head. Everything goes dark.

* * *

When Noctis wakes up it doesn’t feel like waking up. There’s no obvious transition from unconsciousness to consciousness. He fades in and out. When he’s finally more _in_ than out he wishes he wasn’t. His head feels like someone drove a railroad spike through it and forgot to take it out.

His vision takes longer to focus, but when it does he finds himself in an unfamiliar room. The walls and floor are concrete. The ceiling is exposed supports and ventilation ducts. There are no windows, the only light comes from a pair of fluorescent bulbs at each end of the room that hurt to look at. It’s cold. He’s in a basement?

Noctis is sitting on the floor, propped up against a support beam with his hands behind his back around it. He tries to pull his arms forward but something solid around his wrists has them trapped.

Handcuffs.

He’s been kidnapped.

Well, _shit_.

Noctis strains against the cuffs until the metal digs painfully into the skin of his wrists. There’s no give. He twists around and finds a chair pushed against the far wall and a video camera on a tripod pointed directly at him. There’s a small red LED lit on the side—they are recording him.

He stares at the camera, trying not to panic. He reaches for his magic, but it’s hard to focus against the throbbing of his skull and it slips. He tries again, his brow furrows in concentration. Crystal fragments illuminate the basement for a moment before his skull feels like it’s being split open again. Noctis cries out as the magic sputters and dims away.

Noctis grits his teeth against the pain. He’s had headaches from magic but not like this, not in a long time. He closes his eyes and steadies his breathing, and waits for the waves of agony to settle.  

He doesn’t know how long he sits like that, but at some point, a door opens and someone walks with heavy, deliberate steps, down a set of stairs.

Noctis quickly smooths out his features, trying to hide any sign of the headache he’s suffering through. When he opens his eyes a man is standing in front of him, arms crossed, looking smug. His face is completely uncovered. A bold choice, one that means he doesn’t expect to be caught or doesn’t expect Noctis to be able to tell anyone what he looks like. Neither bode well for Noctis.

They watch each other for a while before Noctis wets his lips and says, “Is this the part where I say, _don’t you know who I am?_ ”

“I know who you are, Your Majesty, and soon you–.

“Highness,” he interrupts.

“What?”

“The correct address is ‘Your Highness’. Or ‘Your Royal Highness’ if you want to be more formal. ‘Majesty’ is the king or queen. Good thing it’s just you and me down here or that’d be real embarrassing.”

He really should have seen the backhand coming. His head jerks to the side, pain shooting up the right side of his face. He can taste iron. His teeth broke the skin of his lip.

“Make yourself comfortable, _Highness_. You’re gonna be here a while.”

* * *

There are no windows where he’s being kept, but the drop in temperature tells him it’s night. He’s so tired but it’s too cold to sleep. He’s only got his hoodie and a thin t-shirt to keep warm. He curls up as much as he can with his arms restrained, but he can’t get comfortable. He twists the wrong way and sets the nerves in his arms on fire. He over-corrects and pulls against the handcuffs, spraining his wrist.

“Fuck! Dammit!” His wrist throbs.

He ends up back into his original sitting position. He rests his head against the support, pulls his knees to his chest and tries to steady his breathing.

He knows they couldn’t have taken him too far. He must still be in Insomnia. Yet home feels like a world away.

He tries to focus on what Cor taught him for these kinds of situations. _Comply with their demands. Don’t do anything stupid. Stay alive until help gets there._

* * *

Noctis doesn’t sleep at all. The cold and the throbbing of his wrist keep him up. He can’t see it but he thinks it must be swollen. He tests it every now and then, but the ache makes him immediately regret it.

They leave him alone for hours and the quiet is _maddening_. The camera is still recording, though, so he doesn’t make a sound. Noctis refuses to be entertainment for those assholes. Instead, he passes the time trying to remember the exact finger moves on that guitar video game Prompto loves. He plays the songs in his head and taps out the buttons in the air.  

It doesn’t distract him for very long.

He’s so thirsty. His kidnappers haven’t given him any food or water. His mouth is so dry and his tongue scrapes the roof of his mouth. Noctis can feel his lips start to chap. His mind recalls Gladio’s stupid survival training like a taunt; _the human body can survive three weeks without food, but only 3 days without water._

A horrible chill runs through him. They can’t possibly mean to let him die, can they? Why would they go to all the trouble of capturing him just let him starve to death? He remembers the camera. Is that what it’s for? Is someone paying to have his slow demise recorded? He thinks of the video being sent to his father. Imagines his dad locking himself away and watching in horror as his son slowly rots.

No. That won’t happen. He won’t let it.

Noctis focuses on his armiger. He needs something small he can hold in one hand that will let him warp. A kitchen knife! He put one in there one night when Ignis was trying to chop vegetables. He strains to summon it and instantly he’s hit with a burst of pain in his temple. Gods it hurts, but he can’t give up. He has to push through it. The knife crystalizes in his hand but then fragments again. He tries harder, pouring all his energy into solidifying the knife, and ends up biting his cheek when the throbbing in his skull intensifies.

 _Almost_ –

The door bursts open and someone is running down the stairs.

He’s got it! Noctis flicks the knife and warps after it. He lands hard on cold concrete three feet from where he’d been chained. He pushes up onto his knees and reaches for the knife, only to find it vanished back into the Armiger. Cursing, Noctis jumps to his feet. The movement is too fast and his vision blurs. He doesn’t see the man that tackles him to the ground.

All Noctis can do is curl into himself as he’s punched and kicked, and each blow to the back forces the air from his lungs He takes a few hits to the face that make his ears ring. When the man finishes beating him, Noctis is dragged across the floor. His arms are pulled back behind him and he is chained once more to the beam.

* * *

Heavy footfalls rouse him. He lifts his head, but it’s difficult. His neck aches from the awkward angle, and he’s so very tired.

Everything hurts.

It takes a while for Noctis to register that he isn’t alone. There are three others with him. He recognizes one of them as the jackass that smacked him when he first woke up, but the other two are unfamiliar.

One of the men is wearing a makeshift sling around his arm. He glares at Noctis with venom. From Noctis position chained to the pole, he can see a hint of lightning scars running up from his arm to his neck. Ah, he must be the one Noctis zapped when they grabbed him. Without proper healing he’ll probably never be able to use that arm again, Noctis thinks.

He’s never used his magic with intent to seriously wound another person, but he’s also never had anyone kidnap him before, so he doesn’t feel too bad about it.

Asshole Number One kneels in front on him and grabs his face. He twists his head to the side and back. “You look like shit, Your Highness.”

“Fuck. You.”

Asshole laughs and pats his cheek. “It’s your lucky day. You’ve got a buyer waiting for you in Leide. I’m sure they’ll take _real_ good care of you.”

Before he can process that, the cuffs are unlocked and his arms fall slack at his sides. He’s hauled unceremoniously to his feet. They drag him up the stairs, through the ground floor of an ordinary looking house, and into a garage where Busted Arm pops the trunk of an inconspicuous looking car.

Realization hits him like a dualhorn.

Shit! If they put him in that car—if they manage to get him out of Insomnia—it’s all over. He fights with what little strength he’s got left. He kicks and bites and thrashes. He doesn’t see the needle that gets jabbed into his neck. Not until it’s pulled back out and empty of whatever is now pumping through his veins.

He fights against the pull of the drugs. It’s no use.

He sinks…

He hears the soothing hum of an engine. Noctis sighs and curls into himself. He sees his father in the front seat of the Regalia. He lets go.

…There’s a loud screech near his ears, and his body is thrown back against something hard. He hears shouting. Glass breaks. He tries to sit up but there is no room. There’s more shouting and the thump of something meaty impacting the… where is he? He can’t remember.

The sounds quiet down. Noctis lets his eyes fall shut…

Hands are touching his face— calloused but gentle.

“Hey, easy, easy. You’re gonna be okay, I got ya. Pelna, I think they dosed him with something.”

“…Nyx?” It sounds like Nyx, but his eyes don’t want to open to check.

“Yeah, it’s me,” says Nyx and pets the sides of his face. It feels nice. Warm. He nuzzles into it. Nyx lets out a huff, like laughter.

“Pelna, what’s your ETA?”

The words don’t make any sense. Noctis opens his mouth to say so, but then Nyx pulls him into his arms and Noctis’ head is resting against Nyx’s chest. Oh, that’s nice.

“You had us real worried, you know. Disappearing like that.”

“S’ry. …Missed our date.”

“First time I’ve ever been stood up. Had to track you down to give you a piece of my mind.”  

He doesn’t know how long they sit like that. Nyx talks but doesn’t seem bothered when Noctis doesn’t answer. He’s content instead to run his hands over Noctis’ hair. Noctis, in turn, buries his face in Nyx’s shirt. It’s soft cotton, not the stiff Kingsglaive uniform he’s used to. Nyx is in civilian clothes, he realizes.

It’s all too soon when Nyx sits up jostling Noctis in the process. He moans his protest.

“Wake up, Sleeping Beauty. The cavalry’s here.”

A car door slams. “Noct!”

Gladio?

He opens his eyes just a crack but it’s enough to see he’s somewhere different than last time. It’s dark but he thinks they are outside. Under a bridge? The car from the garage is a few feet away. There are people moving around him now. Several Crownsguard rush around to the side of the car with handcuffs out, and Noctis can see a body lying on the asphalt.

It’s all too much. Too loud and too fast. A man wearing a Kingsglaive coat kneels down in front of him and points a light in his eyes. It’s painful and Noctis tries to pull away to hide in Nyx’s shirt.

“Looks like a moderate sedative. He should be able to sleep it off without issue.”

“What about his head?” asks another voice. Is that Cor?

Fingers prod at his temple and back of his skull.

“The sedative is numbing the pain. We’ll need to have him checked out at the hospital.”  

“Highness, we’re going to move you now.”

“‘Kay,” he mumbles and nuzzles against Nyx’s chest again.

“Uh, I’ll carry him, Marshal. …If that’s alright.”

“Hm.”

Noctis lets himself be lulled by the warmth of Nyx’s embrace.

* * *

He wakes up confused and disoriented, which has become far too normal lately. But he’s warm and the bed is soft so he must be somewhere safe. He eases up onto his elbows and looks around. It is somewhere safe and very familiar. He’s in his childhood bedroom in the Citadel. There is a glass of water sitting on the nightstand. He gulps it down greedily. Water has never tasted so good.

“Good to see you up,” says Ignis. He’s sitting in the armchair by the window, one of Noctis’ old books in his lap. There is a look of pure relief on his face. He stands and crosses to Noctis’ side. “How are you feeling?”

He sets the empty glass down. “Like I’ve been chained up in a basement and had the shit kicked out of me. …Like someone grabbed me off the street to sell me like an animal.”

Ignis’ mouth twists. A shadow passes over his face and Noctis swears the temperature drops by several degrees. It only lasts a moment before Ignis’ smooths his features and the tense atmosphere calms.

“You’re safe now,” Ignis says. “The ones responsible were all apprehended. You’ve nothing to fear anymore.”   

He says nothing.

Ignis takes his phone out of his pocket and stares at it for a moment before saying, “His Majesty requested I notify him immediately when you awoke. He will also want to have a doctor examine you.”

“Right.” The mention of his father jolts his memory. “Specs,” he starts and then trails off, unsure if he wants to continue.

“Yes, Noct?” His voice is gentle but coaxing. Noctis chews his lip.

“The people that had me… there was a video camera.”

“I see.”

“Did they… I thought maybe… they were sending the recording to my dad?”

Ignis adjusts his glasses. “I’m not aware of any recordings. However, if such tapes exist they were no doubt taken into evidence. They would have to be reviewed at some point, for the trial.”

His heart sinks. “Yeah,” he says.

“Though the results are a foregone conclusion, I’m sure,” Ignis adds.

When Noctis doesn’t respond Ignis places a hand on his shoulder, “For now, your father’s main concern is your well-being, as is all of ours.”

* * *

His father arrives not long after accompanied by a doctor who shines a light in his eyes and asks how he feels. She has him name the 10 most recent Kings of Lucis along with a myriad of current events. Ignis pulls the armchair over to the bedside so Regis can sit beside him through it all—his hand over Noctis’ just as he had when Noctis was a child. When the doctor is satisfied there will be no long-lasting damage from his ordeal she leaves with a bow and Noctis is alone with his father.

He stares at their hands and doesn’t know he’s crying until his father reaches up to wipe away his tears. Regis pulls him into a hug and holds him tight through the sobs wracking his body.

“You are so brave and so strong,” Regis whispers into his hair. “I am proud of you, my son.”

* * *

“I’ll have your dinner brought here,” says his father later, after Noctis has calmed down. There is a smile on his face that softens the worry in his eyes. “If you are amenable, there is a young man eager to keep you company.”

It takes his father’s raised eyebrows for Noctis to understand exactly what he means.

Noctis blushes. “I– um, if that’s okay?”

His father chuckles. “Of all the men my son could have chosen as his boyfriend, I cannot bring myself to find fault in one who would go to such extreme lengths to protect him. He brought you back to me; he has my blessing.” Regis’ face hardens as he adds, “As long as he behaves.”

Noctis blushes redder, _“Dad”_.

* * *

Ignis helps Noctis clean up as best he can. He finds his reflection a jarring because of how unchanged it is. There are no marks or bruises anywhere. His hair is the same. His hands are the same. To look at him, no one would think he’d just been locked in a basement for days.

It’s if nothing had ever happened.

The way it should be.

Nyx arrives (accompanied by Gladio who takes up station outside Noctis’ room) dressed in what are probably the nicest non-issued clothes he owns. He looks incredible. He’s holding a small gift bag. When dinner is placed in front of them he holds it out to Noctis.

“I uh, I got this for you,” he says. Inside is a small white-gray fox plush that almost looks like carbuncle minus the horn.

“It’s cute. Thanks.”

“I know it’s kinda dumb.”

“It’s not. I like it.” He thinks he does like it, but the feeling is distant. Muted. He sets the plush back in the bag and sets it aside.

“You look good. Better.”

“Thank you.” Nyx opens his mouth to say something, probably a variation on the same question everyone has asked the moment they see him, ‘How are you feeling.’ But Nyx doesn’t say that.

“I hope you don’t mind, I made a special request to order out.” He gestures to the table.

Noctis lifts the cover from his plate, “Carp fillet.” From the restaurant, they were supposed to go to, on the date they were supposed to have, on the day he was getting kicked in the back.

“Noct?”

Noctis rubs his eyes. “Sorry. I don’t know why–”

“You don’t have to apologize. It’s normal. After what you went through.”

“It wasn’t even that bad. I was just locked up for a while. I probably could have gotten away if I’d tried harder.”

Nyx frowns. He doesn’t like Noctis’ answer. Or maybe he doesn’t agree he could have gotten away? He wasn’t in that bad a shape when Nyx found him.

Noctis looks down at his plate—at the carp that really does look as good as Nyx said—and says, “I’m okay, really.”

“Hey,” Nyx says and Noctis glances up to meet his eyes. His face his set like stone and he’s looking at Noctis like he can see right through him. “It’s okay to not be okay. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Noctis swallows down the taste of ashes. He smiles and shakes his head, “I can’t do that. I’m the prince; people need me to be strong. I can’t let a silly thing like this bother me.”

Nyx takes his hand in a firm, unshakable grip that startles him. “No offense, Noct, but that’s bullshit. You were kidnapped and beaten by people that wanted to sell you off to the highest bidder. That’s not a little thing. That’s a several really big fucking things, and shit like that sticks with you for a long time. Believe me, I know. Being the prince doesn’t change that you’re human. You get to be not okay, same as anyone else who’s been through terrible shit. But I’ll help you through it. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t?”  
  
The word sends a pleasant tingle down his spine. Nyx looks at him almost sheepishly. “A pretty terrible one,” Noctis says and Nyx’s answering smile is infectious.

“You don’t have to talk about it, and I won’t push you. But I’ll be with you, for as long as you’ll have me. I promise.”

Something tight in his chest uncoils. Noctis breathes.

“I’ll hold you to that, Ulric.”

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to MagitekUnit05953234 (MT) and CrazyChopstick on discord for their help!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at [TauriCXIV!](https://tauricxiv.tumblr.com/)


End file.
